postWhedon Buffyverse  Episode 1  Love is Love
by jayman419
Summary: Both Angel and Buffy are picked up again but combined into a single show. I will eventually do all 24 episodes. Each episode will be broken down into chapters, and I'll post a new chapter every few days. COMMENTS AND REVIEWERS WANTED PLEASE!
1. Chapter 1

**Use the chapter menu in the upper right to navigate between multiple chapters in the same episode. Visit my page for a link to the first episode.**

Author's Note:

This is my version of the post-Whedon Buffyverse. It should be rated **Mature** for some dialogue, sexual themes (non-graphic), and violence.

Character death may occur.

I assume you've seen or read all five seasons of Angel and all seven seasons of Buffy. I don't consider anything except aired episodes as canon.

Let's pretend HBO (or whoever) picked up the rights on both shows but decided to combine them into a single series with a decent budget. My presentation is as follows: Chapters will comprise several scenes. Episodes are made of multiple chapters. I'll try to post a new chapter **every few days**.

I welcome and request _ANY AND ALL_** comments**, without reservation If you are unwilling (or unable) to post a public comment please **contact me** at my private email to say hi or ask for a gmail invite.

I need to give a very **special thanks** to my loving wife of seventeen years and dedicated research assistant who made this project possible.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

jayman.

* * *

Season Six/Eight

Episode I – _Love is Love_

Part I

The rush from Hamilton's blood had just about worn off, but no pain remained in its wake. All of the injuries Angel sustained before the infusion had healed while its power yet coursed through his body. His sword arm was fresh and limber, the blade hanging loose but ready as he turned the corner.

Angel couldn't count the number of times he'd been in this alley. Spike and the others were supposed to be there. The pouring rain collected in a huge puddle directly over the spot where Connor was born. Where Darla had died.

Though the alley was devoid of other people it was far from empty. The aging fire escape that rose up on Angel's left looked like it was barely clinging to the building. He broke into a loping run as he glanced up into the storm to be sure nothing was waiting in ambush. Several dumpsters lined up together along one side. Boxes and bags were piled everywhere. Litter from fast food and smokers covered most of what remained visible of the cracked and dirty asphalt.

Angel reached the other end of the alley and grabbed the chain link fence that crossed it. "They'd better be ok," he said to himself.

"Boo."

The voice came from nowhere, and Angel had to draw on years of self-confidence to keep from jumping. He turned around and looked into William the Bloody's soggy, rain soaked face. It poured down along his cheeks like tears.

"Anyone else?" Angel asked.

"Not so far," Spike said. But his senses were on fire. Not quite as bad as when he was a ghost, nothing like when he was being sent to Hell by Pavayne, but still worse than most days. "You feel the heat?" he asked.

"It's coming." Angel said. He thought he heard uneven footsteps in the distance, but it was hard to be sure over the din and the rain.

"Looks like we've finally got ourselves a decent brawl," Spike said, watching Angel's attention shift. He spun around to see what Angel was looking at.

Gunn limped towards them, barely on his feet. One hand was stuffed inside his shirt to staunch the blood, which was streaming over his rapidly whitening knuckles anyway. The other weakly maintained a grip on his axe.

"Damn! How'd I know the fang boys would pull through?" Gunn said. He stumbled a bit, but continued towards them unfazed.

"You're lucky we're on the same side, dogs," he said. "Because I was on fire tonight."

He continued towards the vampires, who were still standing just a couple of feet away from the fence.

"My game was tight..." Gunn tried to smile and it seemed too much, as his strength finally gave out and he fell suddenly limp.

Angel and Spike reacted at the same time, to their mutual consternation. Each stepped forward with supernatural speed to catch Gunn before he hit the soaking pavement.

They lowered him down to a box against the hotel's wall as Gunn's axe fell to the ground. Neither would ever consider drinking Gunn, but Angel and Spike were still overwhelmed by the smell of blood, enticed yet horrified.

"You're supposed to wear that red stuff on the inside, Charlie Boy," Spike said. He pulled open Gunn's shirt to see how bad it really was. Gunn followed his gaze, but seemed unconcerned.

"Any word on Wes?" Gunn asked.

Illyria suddenly jumped over the fence to land beside them silently. The rain had completely soaked her bluish hair, which was now plastered around her similar face. Although she couldn't explain why, she felt it was better that the rain made it easier to hide her tears.

"Wesley's dead," she said, trying to do so with her usual bluntness.

Angel felt like he was back on Holland's elevator and the entire world was falling away. Gunn couldn't stop the tears from wracking his body, sending occasional spurts from around his fist as his chest shook. Even Spike, who could always at least pretend to be aloof, couldn't help feeling like this was truly the end of the world.

Spike hung his head, suddenly realizing what Buffy had gone through when her friends had pulled her back from the happiness of nothingness, the bliss one earns with the final release of a good death.

"I'm feeling grief for him," Illyria said. The distaste she had for this unpleasant human emotion was evident, yet she was almost glad that she was able to feel it now. It seemed Wesley had given her one final lesson to survive in this new place. She didn't know if it was her memories of Fred's determination, the utter willpower that had kept Fred alive on Pylea for five years, or if it was memories of the god-king's determination to learn the rules and to learn how to use them that now bound this new composite Illyria to this struggle of strangers. Maybe it was simply the beating that Hamilton had given her. No matter what, the battle was coming and she was determined to unleash this disgusting rancor that overcame her.

"I can't seem to control it," she said. "I wish to do more violence."

As she spoke, echoes of voices and bellows and howls came in upon the wind. The armies summoned by Wolfram & Hart and the Circle had finally reached them.

"Well," Spike said. "Wishes just happen to be horses today, Blue."

"Among other things," Angel added. He took a step so he was immediately between his allies and the enemy, appraising the approaching hordes. Dozens of creatures of every possible description were beginning to crowd in. Behind them, ready to fill their places were thousands more, and if nothing else they would bury Angel and the others with their sheer numbers.

Above them flew an unbelievably huge dragon that belched flames into the night sky. It had been freed in Sunnydale on the night the Slayer died. Buffy had chosen to sacrifice herself in order to close a portal that her little sister, Dawn, had been made to summon. Buffy's selflessness saved her artificial sister and also all of Sunnydale and the rest of the world. Evidently the Circle of the Black Thorn had determined the dragon's presence and found a way to hide it until now.

"Ok," Gunn said. "You take the thirty-thousand on the left…"

"You're fading," Illyria said. "You'll last ten minutes at best."

Gunn retrieved his axe and stood up. "Then let's make them memorable."

Spike knew that Angel needed this moment, so he waited until Angel had taken several steps before he started forward himself. Illyria flanked Angel on the other side and Gunn managed to stand just behind them. He ignored the bleeding now, and put both hands on his weapon.

"In terms of a plan?" Spike asked.

"We fight," Angel said. What sort of plan could he come up with against this many creatures? Even if they fought all night and all day they wouldn't put a dent in this force. It was the end of the world.

"Be a bit more specific?" Spike finally asked.

Angel took another step forward, almost as if he was putting space between himself and the impossible decision. "Well, personally, I kind of want to slay the dragon."

The horde had finally sighted its quarry. They raised weapons, fists, tentacles, and mind shields. Armed with whatever their hellish arsenal could muster, they charged.

"Let's go to work," Angel said, readying his sword.

"That's it?" Gunn asked. "That's the plan? We stand here and die?"

"You knew we were all most likely going to die tonight." Angel snapped, annoyed that anyone would challenge his lead on the verge of combat. "You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll hold them off while you guys get in the hotel and start sealing exits. You can hold out there."

"They're just going to smash their way in and kill us while we're sleeping," Spike said.

The first of the creatures reached them, the fodder. It was easy enough to hold them at bay. Angel's sword took great sweeps, throwing two or more aside each time. Spike's fists did nearly the same.

Illyria was creating the worst mess, using all of her strength to cause each punch to turn the recipient's parts into splatter. Gunn stood near her, occasionally hacking at ones too stupid to stay down.

"You can go and get my people," Gunn said. "Bring them here. Keep them safe. Someone has to hold out. Someone has to save humanity."

"He's right," Illyria said, holding one of the monsters overhead without effort. She threw it with her usual perfect accuracy. The beast's torso wedged in between the first and second rungs of the fire escape and began to bring it down within reach.

Gunn stood to his full height and took a mighty swing at one that had been trying to take advantage of Illyria's distraction. He caught it just between the shoulder and neck, and the slice went down into the ribs.

As he pulled his axe free, Gunn said, "You guys get out of here, I'll hold them off until you can pull the ladder back up."

"I'm not leaving anyone here to die alone," Angel said, glaring at Gunn.

"I'm dead anyway," Gunn said. There was no denying it. The terrible wounds he'd received from fighting the Senator's vampires were too much to overcome. He'd need immediate medical attention and it didn't look like there was any way to call off the fight to get him to the hospital.

"I'll stay," Illyria said. "You two can go inside to begin preparations. I'll join you shortly."

"There's no other way," Gunn said, imploring Angel and Spike to understand. "You have to let me do this."

Cursing, Angel followed Spike over to the fire escape, but stopped to turn as if he was going back into the fray. Spike's hand on his shoulder stopped Angel cold.

"It's not all the fancy lawyer talking," Spike said. "This is how Gunn wants it, Angel. If we don't find some place to hole up, some way to save as many people as we can, then the world is as good as dead."

"I hate leaving them down here to die."

"It's not your decision," Spike said. He ripped the ladder free once Angel had reached the top with him. "It's for the greater good."

Looking down, Spike saw Gunn and Illyria stood side by side, destroying these early minions with such ease that for the moment it looked as though they might actually be winning. But the increasing size of the ones trying to pile in behind them proved that this fight was just beginning.

"I never liked the greater good," Angel said.

* * *

Gwen Raiden couldn't sit still, so she paced. All around her in the bus station, people were in a panic. Most humans were herd animals, and they fed one another into frenzy. Fighting to get to telephones to try to contact loved ones, pushing one another to get to ticket counters before they closed, and stealing to take what was left in the vending machines. 

But Gwen was a wolf, immune to the chaos surrounding her. She looked radiant, as always, in her typical outfit of black leather with scarlet trim. It looked like it had to be painted on, but the insane demands that her electrical powers put on her metabolism gave her a figure that other women would turn to the dark arts to possess.

Her high-heeled boots clicked on the polished marble floor as she stomped back and forth in front of an empty bench. She had long since tucked her gloves into her belt, and anyone who came too close was getting a jolt. Long, flowing black hair whipped with every turn as she stormed back and forth.

In her pocket she had a pair of tickets, two seats on the 8:30am to Vegas. She'd won them in a dice game not long ago, but the bus didn't leave for another half hour. Waiting had never been something she was good at. And Gwen was pretty sure that if things were this crazy in L.A. then it was only a matter of time until it spread, unless somehow Angel and his crew managed to get it under control in time.

But she was still torn. The instinct to save her own ass was very strong. And who knows, there should be somewhere that Gwen could ride out the worst of this without too much trouble. But who knew where that place might be. But if she never went looking, she'd never know. It was definitely better to get out of here.

But as much as she wanted to run away, she just knew hiding wasn't the answer this time. And if she was going to stand and fight, she might as well do it beside Gunn and Angel. Angel had been one of the first people she'd met to actually treat her decent. And Charlie, well … that was a night she'd never forget. If she'd known what the fang gang was doing right now, she would have never left them behind.

Upset and frustrated, she gave a slight yell. She figured herself a fool to think anyone actually cared for her, or wanted her. She stuck her tongue out at several people who had turned to stare. There was nothing to do now but go back, to find Angel and the rest of them while there was still enough time to help. She walked over to a young woman holding a small child near the back of the line.

"Where are you going?" Gwen asked.

"I don't care," the woman said. "I just want to get Michaela out of here."

"How convenient," Gwen said, handing the woman her tickets. "The kid shouldn't need one so you can sell the other."

She ignored the woman's thanks as she walked away. Gwen didn't do it for her or her child. There just wasn't any sense in wasting them, since she worked so hard to win them. Gwen suddenly stopped and turned back.

"Hey, lady," Gwen called, stomping back across the lobby. "How'd you get here?"

"I drove." She started digging in the front of her diaper bag for the keys. "It's the yellow Civic in 6b."

"Thanks," Gwen said, letting the other woman drop the keys into her hand. "Good luck."

When Gwen stepped outside, she couldn't believe the weather. It was only a quarter till eight, but the sun still should have been up by now. Since these people had been through something like this before, they didn't wait for the reports of the armies of demons laying waste to anything in their path. They knew something was coming next, and then the screaming, the terror, the dying.

A lot of people weren't taking any chances this time, more people were arriving every minute. Some were walking, others getting out of friend's cars or off of bicycles. Any method they could manage to get out of town.

The wind was whipping like there was a storm coming, but the sky still remained perfectly black. Gwen looked around, but there weren't any monsters attacking the area just yet. There was no missing the carnage they were causing just a few miles away. Not one single star was visible, which made the glow from the burning city stand out that much more.

And Gwen was willingly driving herself back into that mess.

She quickly made her way down the rows, because B was the second one and that was pretty far from the door she'd come out. There was no guarantee the roads would be drivable, or for how long, but it was definitely better to try than to walk, subjecting herself to who knows what along the way.

Finally finding the car, she pulled her gloves back on before opening the door.

She tried finding some news on the radio, but there was static on all the stations. She had to play with the seat and the mirrors because the other woman had been much shorter. But after getting situated, she sat there for a moment taking stock.

She was really going to do this. Really and truly, for the first time in her life, heading back into a mess that she'd already made a clean escape from. Was it because it was the right thing to do, or because she wanted another chance to spend the night with Gunn? Either way, it felt strangely proper and grown-up. Feelings Gwen had never grown accustomed to.

* * *

Half a world away, Italy was experiencing a beautiful, cloudless late afternoon. The Immortal's compound was a vast, Roman-style estate. Gardens and walls on three sides surrounded a large pool of crystal blue water. Birds and butterflies flitted between the flowers. 

To the west, a series of open archways formed the rest of the enclosure but left a magnificent view of the sunset. Barely noticeable now, a hole was set in the stone of the walkway that looked just large enough to hold up a crucifix, and the burnt-in ash of a thousand vampires left a residue that no amount of scrubbing could remove.

Buffy sat with her feet in the pool, a scarf tied around her head and sunglasses tucked on. She was reading a trashy romance novel, and occasionally looking up to watch the owner of this compound swimming laps in the background.

There was a stone table set up nearby, and a mixture of chairs allowed for a variety of positions, any sort of comfort immediately available. Around these spaces sat those fresh Slayers who had made it out of the collapse of Sunnydale as well as the ones who had been found, welcomed, or rescued since.

Giles was the only one who sat at the table, with books spread all around him. He was chewing on one end of his glasses. In front of him was a document that had taken several lives to deliver. And if what it said was true it meant that the First had simply been distracting them, all of them, while its real ambitions were well underway elsewhere. Caleb and the Bringers were all pawns on a chessboard, sacrificed to cover a classic feint. And now it was apparently endgame and the good guys were millennia behind.

"Reports from Los Angeles are not good," Giles said, looking over the assembled group of barely dressed girls in front of him before he turned his attention to Buffy. "We should have sent help when he asked."

"Easy for you to say now," Buffy said, ripping off her sunglasses. "You were the one who insisted Angel handle it on his own. You said it was best if we just stayed out of it."

Dawn stood in one of the archways, the closest thing possible to her normal position whenever there was a discussion like this going on. Not quite a part of the group, not quite willing to exclude herself.

"But Angel is the one who took over Wolfram & Hart," Renee said.

"Yeah," Xander said. "But he did say he was working from the inside out. If we'd have just trusted him maybe we could stopped this already."

"Pondering the possible alternatives does nothing to help alleviate the situation now," Giles said. "And it seems I may have misunderstood the situation. All of us have."

"You just want us to stop talking about your mistake," Dawn snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "And you've been making a lot of those lately."

"Dawn," Buffy snapped, silencing her younger sister. "You're not helping."

"None of this is helping," Rona said. "The only thing that would help is going back in time and sending people to Angel, or seeing if we can deal with this now."

"Are you volunteering?" Vi asked.

"I will," Dawn said.

'No." Buffy put her foot down, and Dawn knew it was pointless to try to continue a discussion now.

"Laying around the pool all day, partying and having sex all night, those hardly qualify as time well spent," Giles snapped. "What we need to do is figure out what's happening in Log Angeles. And, more importantly, how to stop it from happening here."

No one noticed the Immortal had stopped his laps, watching intently.

* * *

Illyria and Gunn were in the thick of battle. Although the Old One had been greatly weakened by the Mutari generator she still remained nigh invincible. Her thick, hardened shell took one blow after another without showing the slightest sign of wear. Gunn was much worse for the wear, however. His body finally gave out and he collapsed to the ground. 

"This is it," Gunn said. "I've got nothing left."

Illyria picked up the ladder that had been removed from the fire escape. Spinning it over her head, with the dead Aberjian still crumpled upon it, she blasted a huge group of enemies away. Dropping to her knees, she cradled Gunn into her lap.

For the second time Illyria found herself holding a dying man who had previously loved her shell. No, Gunn had loved Fred. Illyria kept a careful eye on the creatures, who were forming a circle around them. Their fear of Illyria's terrible strength was enough to hold them off for now. They seemed to have decided that waiting for the weakened one to die was better than being destroyed for interrupting.

"Do you also wish me to become _her_?" Illyria asked, her head cocked to one side as if the answer were a mere triviality.

"No," Gunn said. "I want you to promise me that you'll get my people and bring them somewhere safe." Gunn stopped speaking a moment, coughing and spewing blood over his lips. He reached out to grab Illyria's hand. "Swear to me, tell me that you'll get them to the hotel."

Illyria didn't know how to respond. There was no guarantee that anyone from Gunn's gang had even survived the initial assault. So did Gunn wish to be lied to now? Was it common for humans to accept deception in their moments of death? Illyria knew that it was a custom to acquiesce to someone's dying request. Wesley had instilled in her the importance of learning these rules if she was going to stay.

"Very well," Illyria said. "You may die now, if it suits you. I will honor your last request."

"That's…" Gunn broke out into another fit of coughing, before continuing much more quietly. "That's all I needed to hear." Gunn shoved his axe into Illyria's hands. "This will prove to them that you can be trusted. Take it, and get out of here."

"Goodbye, Charles Gunn," Illyria said.

"Go." Gunn forced himself to stand. His body was nearly empty of blood now, but it seemed as though sheer willpower were enough. His muscles, devoid of oxygen, were burning their own tissues as fuel. It wasn't like he'd ever need them again.

Illyria jumped easily to the rooftop, Gunn's axe in her hand. She watched him head back into the fray for his final fight, until mere moments later it was done. Fred's memories of this good and kind man were enough to cause Illyria to feel more emotions she didn't want.

"In my time, the Wolf, Ram, and Hart would never _dare _such an attack." She surveyed the burning cityscape, covered from one end to the other with nightmares and flames. "They shall know Illyria. And my name shall be wrath."

* * *

Miles away, Bethany Chalke was using every ounce of power at her disposal to keep the door closed. She had hidden in a deserted cineplex but the offices she had run into were now surrounded by God only knew what and the double doors that led in were being ripped and shredded, threatening to buckle under the assault. 

Bethany had ducked in here before they were hot on her trail. During the time she was hiding, she'd managed to try the phone, but the lines were dead. There wasn't anything on the television or the radio, either. And it had been a long time since she'd seen anyone besides the creatures. It wasn't long before they had sniffed her out again.

Presently, she was on her ass, one hand raised to her forehead and the other stretched out behind her to help keep her balance. Her skirt rode precariously high on her thigh, but Bethany was never the type to be concerned about such otherwise scandalous deportment. She lowered her hand and furrowed her brow and the door suddenly exploded outwards under the force of her will.

She stood up and ran, throwing anything and anyone out of her way. Maybe one of the actual theaters would be easier to block off. Maybe it was just time to get the hell out of here. She continued to run, but to her credit not screaming.

She had never put herself to such a test. Yet she felt almost no ill effects, despite having expelled dozens of demons. She hopped for a moment, pulling off her shoes, before hauling ass around a corner to get somewhere safer.

The door to the theater opened before she reached it. Now that she had accepted her power certain things had become automatic. As she ducked inside, she noticed that it was playing _Saw_. She couldn't help laughing at the irony, hiding from these things in a horror show.

She ran down to the front exits, mentally ripping the steel locks, making the door useless. It wouldn't hold against them for long, but the sound would let her know soon enough to reinforce it. She went back and did the same thing to the main entrances, peering out the windows to make sure nothing was in the hallways.

With a sigh, she collapsed down into a seat. It was obvious that this wasn't a temporary thing. Hiding in here would do for a little while longer, perhaps, but it was definitely time to come up with some kind of long term plan.

* * *

Angel and Spike had climbed in through a window. They now stood inside one of the many empty rooms that the hotel had once made its bread and butter on. This one had no furniture, no decorations of any kind. The wallpaper was torn; large swaths were missing to reveal the plaster and wood slats beneath. A single, bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting constantly shifting shadows as it swayed back and forth. 

"There's no sense in trying to board up every window in the building," Spike said.

"What else are we going to do?" Angel asked, kicking apart a closet door to get kindling. "Gunn died so we could get in here."

"No, Gunn died so we could _get away_. We wait for Little Shiva and then we hit the sewers," Spike said. He ducked as Angel swung the piece of the broken door around, holding it up against the now broken window they'd come through.

"There's got to be someplace more secure than this," Spike said. "A bank vault, a prison, a military base."

"Hand me the hammer." Angel continued on with the task with blind stubbornness.

"What?" Spike asked. "I don't have a bloody hammer."

Dropping the wood, Angel left the room, heading downstairs towards the lobby. There wasn't much they'd left behind since the move to Wolfram & Hart, but Angel had figured a day like this would come so he knew where to get some supplies and weapons that they might have left behind.

Spike stood there, staring after Angel. "Right," he said to himself.

* * *

Dawn had to share a room with Ana-Marie and Demetra. They were both nice enough, although Demetra's thick Eastern European accent made understanding her a challenge, and Ana-Marie wasn't the neatest of individuals to live with. 

Three beds were lined up one wall, but there were no windows to allow in any light. Instead sconces were set into the wall, now rigged with electricity but originally designed to hold torches instead. Heavy drapes, of some kind of cloth Dawn couldn't identify, covered all four walls. A pull-string opened part of it to reveal the door into the main building, another pull-string opened the door to their balcony.

She had pulled open almost every drawer and closet in the room, looking through everyone's stuff to reclaim her favorite and most useful pieces of clothing. A group of girls living in the same room meant that ownership took on a very loose meaning.

Dawn had several outfits laid out on the bed. Set near it, making a deep indentation in the thick comforter was a pile of coins and cash. A couple of weapons and some other items completed her kit, and she had several pairs of shoes and another good, solid pair of boots ready.

There was never any chance that she'd be a part of this team. No one here would ever think of her as anything besides Buffy's little sister. But in Los Angeles she could get a new start. That's what Angel did, he accepted people. Even when Faith showed up there to murder him, he took her in and helped her become the woman she was today.

Dawn was stuffing a duffel bag full of her things, adding what was small enough into a fanny pack she was wearing, when Xander walked in.

"When are you leaving?" he asked.

"What?" Dawn exclaimed. She hadn't told anyone what she was planning to do.

"I saw your face at the meeting, and now I see…" Xander waved a hand around the room.

"You don't see anything."

"Well, maybe not half as much as I used to. But this is hardly the kind of situation that requires two eyes."

"You wouldn't understand, Xander." Dawn sat down on the bed, pulling a sock through her hands. "You fit in here."

"So do you, Dawnie."

"No I don't. And I never will." Dawn sighed. "I'm going to help Angel. And I'm going alone."

"And that's the end of it?" Xander asked.

"Yes."

"Ok. I guess I'll wait until after you're gone to tell anyone what happened."

"Thank you, Xander." Dawn stood up to give him a hug. "I'll miss you."

"Nah, you'll be fine," Xander said. "You'll be a big hit in L.A."

But Dawn wasn't so sure. No one knew her like Xander. But the again, were these feelings even real? Or were they nothing but shadows left behind by the monks who had created her?

* * *

The strangely patterned art deco tiles of the main lobby floor were still mostly intact. Scars and burns and other remains of the dozens of spells cast here recently still littered the area. Angel rested his hands on the banister. The very same one which he had leapt over, Connor at his side, to go after Wesley and Fred when they had been trying to free him from Jasmine's control. 

He turned and started down the steps, looking around as he did so. Years of memories were welling up inside him. Friends and enemies that he'd never see again were dancing just out of sight. The desk where Cordelia had spent so many years working looked so achingly empty that Angel had to pause a moment. Directly behind Cordelia's desk was the one that Wesley had used.

By the time Angel came down the final three stairs to reach the lobby proper, he sensed someone or something was in there with him. He didn't smell, or see, or even hear anything. But he knew it was more than paranoia.

"Come on out, Connor," Angel said, finally realizing who was in the room with him.

"Hello, Father," Connor said, stepping out of the shadows. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, sturdy boots, and a leather jacket not entirely dissimilar to Angel's. "I knew you'd come here."

"Why aren't you protecting your family?" Angel asked.

"Can't you feel the spell unraveling?" Connor asked. "Can't you feel the memories fading?" Connor paced, uneasy. "My _family _was just actors hired by Wolfram & Hart to play mind games with me."

"Oi! What's going on down there?" Spike yelled, running into view on the upper hallway. "Who's there?"

"It's ok, Spike," Angel said.

"Who the hell is that?" Spike asked, standing near the banister with the best view of the room below.

"He's my son," Angel said.

"Your…"

Angel cut him off. "Spike." He practically spit the name. "Not now. Leave it."

"Ok," Spike said, holding his hands up innocently and backing up a step. "Alright." He started down the staircase.

"You're my family," Connor said.

"I wanted more for you," Angel said.

"So did I."

"How long do we wait for Bluebird?" Spike asked when he finally joined the others in the middle of the lobby.

"You mean…" Connor started to say.

"Illyria," Angel finished. He turned and walked back into his old office. There were dusty outlines everywhere, reminders of the furniture and the lives that used to fill this room. He started punching the floor, ripping up pieces until he was able to drag out a large surplus crate. He carried it back out to the lobby and dropped it near Spike's feet.

"This should help a bit," Angel said, opening the crate and revealing several MP5 submachine guns, along with dozens of clips.

"Just in the nick of time," Spike said, as a crash resounded from somewhere upstairs.

Connor took a pair of the weapons and hooked them to his belt loops, then took another pair for immediate use. Angel and Spike each took a couple of guns, too. Spike held his sideways, like in the gangster movies, which prompted a slight grimace out of Angel, who simply slipped one over his shoulder and began filling his pockets with clips.

"Let's go see if that's our lady," Spike said.

Angel and Connor followed him up the stairs and through several hallways. They passed the door to Bethany's old room before finally coming the stairs to the roof. Illyria was in the process of twisting the doorknob off with her free hand.

"That's not a good sign," Spike said, noticing Gunn's axe.

"Gunn wants us to bring his followers into ours," Illyria said without preamble. "He made me swear an oath."

"We'll see what we can do," Angel said.

"That's not good enough," Illyria replied. "Wesley taught me the importance of custom."

"Ok," Angel said, turning to head back.

"That's it?" Illyria asked, thrown off by Angel's sudden change of mind.

"He's been doing a lot of that lately," Spike said. "We're going to the sewers. Find somewhere safer to hole up."

Illyria followed Spike and Connor down the stairs. Although she had several opportunities, she ignored any chance to clean off Gunn's axe. The blood would remain until the promise was fulfilled, simple as that.

Connor couldn't help sneaking a sideway glance at Illyria. He'd always had a thing for older women, and the weakening spell had done absolutely nothing to alleviate such cravings. Fred had always been a little bit too young for his taste, but Illyria was older than the entire world. That was hot, in Connor's book.

Illyria gave him a returning look, but said nothing. Below the main offices, in Angel's apartment, was an entrance into the sewers beneath the city. They were a long way from the aqueducts but it was possible to reach almost anywhere nearby through these ancient tunnels.

Nobody needed to worry about seeing in the dark, so the flashlights attached to the muzzles of the MP5s were ignored. Connor was in the lead, using his hard-won scouting skills to lead the group through the sewers to Gunn's old hideout.

Illyria walked beside him, her supernatural sense of direction almost as infallible. Gunn's final words had been very clear and she intended to make sure that they were followed to the letter.

"So are we going to take his people, or what?" Spike asked. He was walking beside Angel, a few steps behind Connor and Illyria.

"Where are we supposed to take them to?" Angel asked. He has his sword tucked into a sheath beneath his jacket, the gun still slung on the strap over his shoulder.

"Where ever it is that we're headed," Spike replied.

"We don't even know where that is yet," Angel said.

"I shall tell Gunn's people that I am their new leader. This axe shall prove my claim. Once they agree, I shall take them to Vahla ha'nesh," Illyria said all of this without pausing or looking back.

"Wait a minute," Angel said. "Do you even have the power to open those portals anymore?"

"No matter what your machine may have done to me, I shall always be able to return to my home."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

I've combined both Buffyverse shows into a single series that should be rated MATURE for some dialogue, sexual themes (non-graphic), and violence. I assume you've seen or read all five seasons of Angel and all seven seasons of Buffy. Only aired episodes are considered canon.

For the record, I don't have a beta reader and I've never done something like this before, so I want to offer my deepest appreciation to those of you who have taken the time to post reviews. (I consider adding me to any sort of favorites a comment, too.) Please keep the comments coming, and contact me through my email or Myspace page if you have anything else to add of ask.

Question of the day: Are shorter installments more often better than longer installments less often?

jayman

* * *

"Wait a minute," Angel said. "Do you even have the power to open those portals anymore?" 

"No matter what your machine may have done to me, I shall always be able to return to my home."

"He meant since you lost your Qwa'ha Xahn," Spike said. They trudged along through ankle deep water, speaking in hushed tones because the echoes could carry for miles in this underground maze.

"You continue to apply meaning where there is none," Illyria said. "My priests are just that, worshippers. Not a container for my power, not even any sort of _link_ to my power. Nothing but my slaves."

"Jeez," Spike said. "He was just asking. No need to take the man's…"

Connor suddenly held up his hand, and the group fell silent. Angel and Spike thought they heard someone splashing away from them into the distance, but they couldn't be sure. Connor held up two fingers, then pointed forwards and made a fist.

"What?" Spike asked quietly, looking at Angel to see if he'd understood.

Only Illyria seemed unconcerned with maintaining silence. "You will show yourselves," she said, her voice booming forth like the goddess she nearly was. She held Gunn's axe high over her head, spinning in a circle. "According to recognized rites of ascension, I stand before you with the weapon your leader, Charles Gunn, held to his last." She took a few steps forward. "He asked that I take you to my kingdom. He asked that I give you refuge from the armies of Hell."

Angel stood there, slack-jawed. No way this one was gonna work. He could tell by the look on Spike's face that he held the same opinion. Only Connor seemed awestruck. But given what happened with Jasmine there was no way to tell what the kid was really seeing.

"Would you ask that Gunn die unfulfilled?" Illyria yelled, frustration evident on her normally stone-like face. "Would you turn my oath into lies?"

As she fell finally silent they could all hear the splashing coming back towards them.

* * *

This was Gwen at her very limit. She looked like the Emperor right out of _Star Wars. _She was even standing at the top of a short flight of steps, the ruins of the attorney's offices behind her. Her hair billowed up around her shoulders, and she couldn't stop screaming. 

Her fingertips were raining lightning down upon a group of some kind of demons. Maybe it was vampires. It didn't matter, at this point. Occasionally blasts would come from nowhere, either striking Gwen or nearby, leaving blinding circular arcs as they fizzled out along the wet pavement.

Streaking down from the very top of the clouds, Gwen was pulling more then three thousand amps straight out of the storm. A mailbox was hit with another near full-second strike, and the three of them standing together exploded like chickens with letters instead of feathers. Even though smoke poured off her target, Gwen was having a hard time stopping this.

This was Wolfram & Hart's fault. They must have summoned this storm. They must have taken away the sun. Now too much power coursed through her, and it was only a matter of time before she lost it and blew something important. Already her leathers were charring.

She'd have to time it perfectly, but the next time she got hit she would try to ground the entire stream back into the cloud it came from.

* * *

While most of the Potentials went with Buffy to blow off in Europe, Faith had known that there was still plenty of work to do. Buffy and her crew fought with customs and passports, and all the other necessary bits of documentation that a wanted felon couldn't necessarily provide, while Faith had simply hopped on another bus as Mrs. Principle Wood. 

A few of the new Slayers, Ally, Julia, and Chao-Ahn, had gone to Cleveland with her. Either because they couldn't travel outside the country or because they preferred Faith's style, or maybe it's possible Chao-Ahn just didn't properly understand the options and would much rather have been sitting by a pool watching a nubile godling swim laps.

But the short of it was that Faith was desperately outnumbered and trying to defend the other Hellmouth with practically nothing. She'd told Xander as much a few minutes ago on the phone. At first, after what she'd seen in Sunnydale, it'd been easy. For months now it looked like the girls had been steadily gaining the upper hand. Then, a few days ago, it all changed.

They were on the defensive. Where before patrols had covered almost the entire city, now they were limited to strict corridors and no one was allowed to patrol alone. If they didn't get some help soon, Cleveland would fall. Xander knew that by the time Giles and the others decided what to do it would be too late. He also knew that there was no way he could stop Dawn from leaving. Might as well make the best of a bad situation.

There came a time in every child's life when they were finally ready to be an adult. And Xander knew that Buffy would never allow Dawn the chance. Dawn's moment had come and gone two years ago when she grabbed a sword to help Buffy fight off Willow's crazy summoned monster things. Thanks to the sisters being stuck in that pit Xander had another chance to save the day with his silver tongue.

So he figured that a few minutes would be plenty of time for him to allow Dawn before he started following her. If they could just get to the airport before she saw him, he could explain that he wasn't going to stop her. Xander would see Dawn safely into Angel's care, because otherwise Buffy would simply kill him, as if he wouldn't be in enough trouble for not telling her that Dawn was leaving. But after he dropped off the kid he could go to Cleveland and give them a hand until the real cavalry arrived.

As he crept along the hallway behind her, he heard Dawn let out a muffled screech ahead. He ran up to peek around the corner and saw the Immortal with his hand over Dawn's mouth, her legs off the floor and kicking wildly. He didn't even bother to try to restrain her tiny hands, which pulled and clawed at his perfect forearms. He backed through a door nearby, kicking it shut with his foot.

There was no way the Immortal would ever hurt Buffy's little sister. Especially not with Buffy downstairs. Those two had never come to blows, but if their exercises were any indication Buffy would mop the floor with him.

Xander, however, didn't feel any particular reason to run in and challenge the Immortal to fisticuffs right now. Instead he hid behind a plant until the bronzed giant came back out and headed off.

* * *

Bethany heard the shredding of the metal doors but there was nothing she could do to stop it in time. Shoes in hand, she ran without hesitation to the other doors at the front, throwing one completely off its hinges as the demons stormed in behind her. 

She was in a wide access hallway which had other one-way theater doors and lead to an outside exit. Nothing out there could be worse than what was already in here with her, so that's the way she went. She blew the next set of doors off, too, running through them as they spun out to either side.

She should have run out into a bright autumn day, but the sky was only that disconcerting blackness and instantly her socks were soaked. Dozens of different types of demons were having their way with whatever they could find. Some had humans, some had cars or light poles, and others seemed to be fighting each other.

Where was the Army? The Marines? Why were these things allowed to just run rampant? She couldn't make sense of it, but Bethany was pretty sure she knew who was involved. She felt herself beginning to sink into the personal darkness that meant something was about to change…

* * *

Spiked watched Angel, who was watching Illyria explain to Gunn's former gangsters why they should follow her, and where that might take them. There hadn't been any introductions yet; both groups seem unconcerned with such things right now. 

"You know this bloke," Spike said, pointing to Angel. "No matter what the Blue Ox is telling you, it's the truth."

Angel nodded, but looked at Illyria.

"Gunn did not allow recourse for a decision. My only provision is that you are to be made safe."

"We have a place now where we are safe," the taller of the two said.

"You will take me there," Illyria said. "I shall round you up, and take you to my home. My cornucopia may have dried up but we will find a way to supply you."

"What the fuck is a cornucopia?" the short one asked.

"It's like a little wicker basket," Spike said, "that never, ever runs out of food. All kinds of bits in there, berries, grains…"

"It is not a basket," Illyria boomed. "The fields of Vahla ha'nesh once bloomed with eternal harvests. I was gone so long my armies fought over whether to keep waiting. Without my powers, I could not keep my armies alive."

"So the last folks you stuck in there all dried up?" Biggie asked.

"I shall provide," Illyria replied.

"You're not very good at keeping pets, love." Spike smirked at her, ignoring her glare.

* * *

Looking both ways, and wishing for eyes in new places, Xander crept out from behind the plant and over to the door. The Immortal was no spell caster, so there couldn't be anything more than a simple lock between Xander and Dawn. But it was enough to stymie his attempts to open the door. 

"I don't know if you can hear me," Xander whispered, "but I'll be right back, Dawnie."

He thought he heard a muffled reply, but it didn't matter anyway. He started looking around for something he could use to pick the lock when he realized that he had absolutely no idea how to go about using it, let alone picking one that was centuries old.

Instead he grabbed the pot that held the plant he'd been hiding behind, and after two or three solid whacks the entire mechanism fell free. He rushed inside and saw that Dawn was bound and gagged, with the chains that linked her wrists hooked on a spike driven in the wall above her head.

He ran up to her and motioned for her to be quiet as he pulled off her gag.

"What the hell is happening?" she whispered.

"I don't know, but it seems like he really doesn't want you to leave," Xander said.

"So I should just show up at dinner and pretend nothing ever happened?" Dawn asked.

"No," Xander said. "We've got to get out of here as quick as possible."

"You mean you're coming with me?" Dawn asked.

Xander pulled out the confirmation number he'd printed from the computer. "Two tickets. They're not flying into Los Angeles, so we'll get to San Diego."

Dawn threw her arms around him, nearly crying with relief.

* * *

Bethany was still in the parking lot, not far from the doors she'd run out of. Her head felt like it had been microwaved, still sizzling as it throbbed. She wiped her nose, and her hand came away bloody. The nosebleed wasn't severe, but it still wasn't a good sign, especially since it had never happened before. 

She was leaning up against the broken remains of an Acura. All around her were smears where the demons had been standing, and the car itself was shoved up against the building preventing any more from coming out. It looked like the humans had been crushed as well.

Bethany threw up, both palms pressed against the upside-down quarter panel, grimacing as the bile splashed onto her socks.

A few months ago she'd discovered she could fly, like some kind of reverse Spider-man. If she pulled just hard enough on something that wouldn't move and let herself go she could fling through the air. It was an exhilarating and intimidating method of travel, and not something she could really practice before today. But it was a hell of a lot better than walking through another crowd. She might have thought differently if she'd known about the dragon.

Ignoring the pain in her head, she set off to find the one man who might know what was happening.

* * *

Angel stepped forward, finally deciding to put an end to this discussion. "Just take us to see the rest of you. Let us present our case and they can all decide. Gunn must have told you about me." 

"Gunn told us you turn evil sometimes," the short guy said.

"Devon," the tall one said, turning to his friend.

Angel's expression instantly melted as if he'd been stabbed. He wondered if he just went to sleep if he'd wake up in bed in his offices inside Wolfram & Hart. Maybe with another one of those chest-suckers attached, but no worse for wear.

"Who are you to decide for everybody?" Spike asked.

"Are you willing to give us your weapons?" Devon asked.

"Charles Gunn put this axe in my hand. It was his way of showing you that what I say is true. If you think you can take it from me…" Illyria started to step forward, but Spike grabbed her arm.

"Ok. Follow us." The taller of the two turned around and began leading them back down the tunnels. "I'm Eric. That's my brother, Devon."

"I'm Spike, the broody one behind us is Angel. The broody one in the shadows over there is Angel's son Connor. And the smurf is…"

Illyria's hand caught Spike full force in the larynx. He was chopped off his feet, falling with a sickening gargle back into the muck. His leather floated around him like a shroud as he lay there stunned.

"You do not call me that," Illyria said, looking down at him. "I was a god to your kind…"

"We've all heard the speeches," Angel said. "Let's just go." He stepped over Spike and turned the two gangsters back around. "Just go."

Connor pulled Spike to his feet as Illyria splashed off without another word.

"Can you talk?" Connor asked.

Spike let out a croak before shaking his head.

"You'll be fine in a few hours," Connor said, reassuringly.

Constantly along the way, the brothers had to warn of impending booby traps. It wasn't long before they arrived at the main camp. What looked like it had once been a train station was now a fortress, and it looked like they had everything they could possibly want except food.

"I'll go get Sin jinn." Devon ran off into the crowd.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at the newcomers, especially Illyria who made no attempt to conceal Gunn's bloody weapon. A basketball bounced off into the distance, forgotten mid-game. Nearby chess and checkers tables were empty as well.

It wasn't long before the new leader presented himself. He wasn't very tall, but big enough to be imposing to most people. He wore layers of clothes, each one specifically chosen for purpose and function, with no consideration for the overall effect.

"I'm St. John," he said, walking forward with his hand extended.

Illyria pressed Gunn's axe into it. "He wanted to make sure you were safe."

"That's Gunn," Sin jinn said.

"I will give you one hour to prepare and pack the things you wish to take with you. No one is forced to come, but there is a bank which we can better fortify, and another place inside where you and your people can be immune to what is going on."

"What are you offering us?" Sin jinn asked.

"Vahla ha'nesh," Illyria said. "My temple, which exists on another plane, and can only be accessed by me. I will seal the civilians inside, and the rest of you can help us fight."

"One hour," Sin jinn said, turning away. "We'll be ready."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:

This is my version of the post-Whedon Buffyverse. It is rated **Mature** for some dialogue, sexual themes (non-graphic), and violence. I assume you've seen or read all five seasons of Angel and all seven seasons of Buffy. I don't consider anything except aired episodes as canon.

My continued thanks to everyone who's put me on any sort of update list, and to the people who have posted reviews or sent a message.

This entire project is dedicated to my loving wife and research assistant. _Pleasing you is why I get up in the afternoon._

* * *

Wolfram & Hart's iconic edifice dominated this street a few days ago, back when it was still standing. Several cars were still parked against the curb, one of them turned up on its side. The streetlights threw sparks down on the sidewalk below, the bulbs destroyed by the massive surges they had been subjected to in the past few minutes. Without their steady glow, and with no moon or stars to speak of, the area was in near total darkness. 

But the dim shadows were occasionally thrown into stark relief as a sudden glow brighter than the sun coursed through. All around Gwen the clouds erupted with the most fearsome barrage they could manage. Every so often one would strike her directly and renew the energy shooting out of her fingertips. The continued destruction of her long dead enemies was totally out of her control.

She stood at the top of a short flight of steps, the ruins of the L.A. branch strewn across several blocks behind her. She felt the ionized air burning a path from her body into the sky and knew that another strike was imminent. Gwen's only chance was to wait for the streamer to hit another step leader and then somehow get the charge to follow it up.

There was normally no way to guarantee the path such a surge would follow, but Gwen was far from normal. The air molecules themselves exploded, compression manifesting as sound, and the echoing thunder from the terrible strikes boomed throughout the suddenly silent city.

But it was done… the local charge equalized. Gwen fell to her knees; smoke pouring from her charred clothing. After kneeling for a moment she fell onto her side. Her leathers were almost completely destroyed, hanging on to her body by just a few threads. The skin revealed beneath her clothes was a light, beautiful pink and the tantalizing glimpses were sexier than if the leather had fallen off completely.

As she lay there, looking down at the pile of dead demons that had started this entire thing, she saw something glinting on the sidewalk nearby. After a few minutes, she stood up and went to check it out, finding a small ring. She wasn't sure what it was, but it might have been valuable once, so she slipped it into her pocket.

It was obvious to her now that staying this close to the source of the storm was a bad idea. Any minute now more demons could appear and the terrible ordeal would start all over again. She could also tell that Angel wasn't here anymore and the only other place she could think of to look was back at the hotel.

The streets were oddly quiet, with only the sound of a barking dog somewhere in the distance accompanying Gwen's footsteps. No traffic, no people, no signs of civilization at all. Debris from the ravaged buildings littered the sidewalk, making Gwen's route look like one of little Billy's adventures in _Family Circus._

* * *

Two hours after they left Rome, Xander and Dawn found themselves with a significant layover in Paris. They sat at a café inside the airport, simply killing time and waiting for their flight. 

"We're a pair, aren't we?" Dawn asked. She sat swirling her straw around in what was left of a nearly empty latte.

"What do you mean?" Xander replied. He had a plate of muffins in front of him, which he had been sharing. He tore the top off one of the last ones and popped a piece in his mouth.

There were dozens of other diners, either waiting for another flight or scarfing down some food before they left for whatever business brought them to the City of Lights. Not a single nearby table was empty, but the overall din of the people kept the conversation private enough.

"Neither one of us has any powers, or skills, or really even any potential," Dawn said. "Yet we're the only ones who are even trying to help."

"Maybe that's enough," Xander said, quickly swallowing his food. "It's true we don't have any powers, but that just means we don't have any responsibilities. Your sister knows what she's doing."

"Somehow I doubt it," Dawn said. She wasn't sure what was going to happen to her in L.A., but she did know that it was going to be the start of something entirely new. She hadn't slept in a building without Buffy since her big sister had come back from college. Since their mother died.

"You'll be fine, kiddo," Xander said, offering Dawn a weak smile.

"Somehow I doubt that, too," Dawn muttered under her breath.

"Why are you going?" Xander asked.

"I'm _not _going to try to break up an old fling and her new beau," Dawn said, venom in her voice.

"Easy on there, soldier," Xander said. "I'm not attacking you, I'm just asking…"

"How much longer until the plane leaves?" Dawn asked, ignoring his attempts to apologize and cutting him off.

"Two hours," Xander said, letting the silence settle between them. It never used to be like this between them. He remembered nights… no, that's not quite right. The monks created those.

* * *

The empty and strangely silent streets above them were bad news in Angel's opinion. Every time they passed a grate or other opening to the surface he checked, hoping to see something terrible. There was no way Wolfram & Hart had given up already. That meant that this was the calm before the storm. Ironic, given that the weather was the one attack that was unrelenting, and the sewers were slowly filling with water. 

Connor was in the lead again. Illyria walked beside him, a column of Gunn's people separating them from Angel and Spike who were bringing up the rear. They were prepared, if attacked, to swing into a four-way defense or any other pattern an attack would require. Specifically they had discussed what to do if they were surrounded, and then Illyria and Angel would both slide to their left, leaving Connor at the front, Spike at the rear, and the other two on either side.

Whatever sort of maneuver they deemed necessary could be used. Gunn's people had been living under siege, under discipline, for most of their lives. They were at risk, but they were far from useless.

During the time in which the refugees had been preparing to leave they took down as many booby-traps as they could, carefully packing them to be set up again later. All the weapons they could muster had been passed out, so that nearly every one was armed, though some were forced to share. Each bowman had someone with him carrying arrows, but in general all of them should be able to defend themselves for a few seconds, at least, which should be long enough for one of the champions to reach them.

There were several people among Gunn's crew who looked like they could more than hold their own in a fight. All things considered, it could have been worse, Angel thought.

* * *

Bethany didn't flail as she flew through the air. The strangely quiet city passed by beneath her, oblivious to her presence. Though she didn't know of its existence, she was lucky enough to be spared the dragon thus far. The worst she'd encountered on her trip had been a strange concentration of lightning near the old law offices. The storm seemed to have been getting worse, but it had slackened back into its more usual torrential downpour instead. 

She easily landed on the hotel roof. She had left her socks at the mall theater once they'd been puked on, and her bare feet splashed through several inches of water that covered the tar and gravel roof. A narrow tower, just shy of ten feet tall, enclosed the top of the stairwell that led into the hotel proper.

She found her way into the building, but was stopped by the door that Illyria had sealed. It didn't hold her up for long, simply shattering off the hinges under the force of her will.

Inside it was dry in places, at least. She immediately headed to the room she had lived in before, hoping that maybe she had left some clothes there. If not, maybe she'd find something in someone else's old rooms.

* * *

Spike heard them coming, but he couldn't yet manage to call out a warning. Instead he grabbed Angel by the shoulder and spun him around, just in time for Angel to get punched in the face. It might have been marginally better than being hit in the back of the head but Spike would have to wait until later to ask. He jumped forward to tackle their second attacker while Angel fell under the first. 

The chrome helmets and the armor beneath their robes were instantly recognizable to Angel as he looked up on the demon kneeling above him. These things were going to be hard to put down, and it was unlikely that there was only the pair of them.

Spike's style of fighting was highly mobile, using his reach and strength to keep his opponents off balance. But that really wasn't an option here, because of the confinement of the sewers. Instead he switched to a grappling style, trying to maintain control of his enemy directly instead.

Angel flipped the Nahdrah off of him, rolling over to dive on top of the demon himself. He didn't have any sort of time to try to get his sword out, so he just wrapped his meaty hands around the demon's throat and began to squeeze.

Spike smashed his opponent off of an oversized pipe that ran from the floor to the ceiling right beside the wall. Illyria and Connor pushed through the crowd as the fight was ending.

"What happened?" Connor asked, ignoring the obvious.

"Get back up front," Angel said, still sitting atop the demon and choking him. "This could be a diversion." As he said it, they heard shouts coming from the front of the column. "These guys are smart, so watch yourselves."

Illyria ran through the crowd, not caring who got knocked out of her way. The only time she paused was when she stepped right up against a woman carrying a small child. The woman stood frozen, not sure what was happening. Illyria managed to squeeze around her without touching and continue on her rampage towards the attackers.

A group of six or seven more demons were menacing the refugees. Some of them stood between the demons and the others, trying to form some kind of phalanx to keep them at bay. Behind them, archers took potshots at any demon who was in their line of sight, although the heavy chrome armor made their shots highly ineffective.

"Smart?" Illyria asked as she stepped between the humans and the demons. Connor didn't offer a word, standing silently but just as dangerous beside her.

"You will flee. Now," Illyria said. "Or you will die. Choose, but quickly."

Connor didn't bother trying to look tough beside the goddess, the demons could think whatever they wanted about him until the combat started. Which wasn't long. Two of the demons broke off from the others and charged forward. Illyria ducked down and swept her right foot forward, knocking one of them down. She continued the spin, coming up as she did so to smack the flat palm of her hand into the chest of the second Nahdrah. He stopped moving instantly, falling over dead. Illyria finished the spin and brought her heel down with a sickening squish.

Connor didn't wait for the others to decide. He jumped over Illyria and immediately laid into them; his fists and feet moved faster than any human should've been able to. Several of Gunn's people swarmed around Illyria with their swords and staffs striking wherever there was opportunity. At the rear of the column, Angel and Spike were battling again, this time against several more that had shown up.

* * *

"It's time," Xander said, standing up and picking up his tray. "We can go check in now." 

Dawn stood up without a word, leaving her trash on the table. Xander glared at her as he put her cup on his tray.

"What's with you? I'm here, helping you get…"

"You're not helping me at all!" Dawn snapped. "You're just going to see Faith, and I happen to be along for the trip." As she spoke, she snatched the tickets out of the front pocket of Xander's shirt. She dropped one on the table and took off with the other.

"This should be a lovely nine hours," Xander said to himself as he followed her.

* * *

Gwen could see lights on inside the hotel. Someone, or something, was moving around on the third floor. She stood on the street staring into the pouring rain to look at that light, trying to decide if it was worth going in or not. She couldn't think of anywhere else to look for Angel. She could think of a lot of bad things that could be in there. If they would just pass by the window again, maybe she could get a better look. 

The building would act as a sort of shield against her electrical field, protecting her from the storm. Anything inside there had more reason to fear her. She rattled the door into the lobby, debating.

She'd been inside before, and she never went anywhere without scoping it out as much as possible first. There was another door around back that would be much easier to break, if she could just clear the wall or the gate.

Inside, Bethany clearly heard the door. She had stopped pacing and was listening intently. Whatever made the noise had stopped now. She stormed out of the room, determined to investigate.

They met in the lobby, as Gwen's foot sent shards of glass flying into the lobby. Bethany stopped them, and began to put the door back together when Gwen tried to step through.

"Wait, stop!" Gwen yelled, backing out onto the patio.

Bethany stared out into the darkness, but couldn't make out who was there. "I'm looking for Angel," she said.

"So am I."

* * *

Angel stared up at the dignified, boldly painted sign proclaiming this to be the TNIF Credit Union. There hadn't been any sewers with direct access to the building. That would be good when they were trying to defend it, but it meant that the entire group had to risk running through the open. 

He held the machine gun in his hand, but his finger was against the guard, not on the trigger. His sword remained on his back. No one understood why he or she weren't instantly set upon, but there had to be a reason. Gunn's people talked almost silently amongst themselves, speculating.

Illyria and Connor were at the head of the column; her masterful running retreat as she led the refugees here going totally unnoticed, apparently.

"What will we do when we get there?" Connor asked.

"I will open the portal to Vahla ha'nesh," Illyria said. "Once the others are inside we will have to find food for them."

"There isn't any in your place?"

"My kingdom. It is in ruins. The land is infertile."

"What happened?"

"I was betrayed." Illyria cocked her head to see Connor's reaction, a slight smile on her face.

Spike and Angel again brought up the rear. Most of Spike's voice had returned, and he was practicing his speech on Angel. "This place looks like it ought to be quite cozy," he said. "Once we evict the roaches, that is."

"We're going to have to find out what's inside there before we can be sure we even can evict them," Angel said.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: _This is my version of the post-Whedon Buffyverse. It is rated __**Mature**__ for some dialogue, sexual themes (non-graphic), and violence. I assume you've seen or read all five seasons of Angel and all seven seasons of Buffy. I don't consider anything except aired episodes as canon._

Thank you for over two hundred views! I can't express how much it means to me that so many of you have taken the time to send comments and emails, or post reviews.

I hope you enjoy chapter four, and I'll finish up this episode and finally get everyone where they're going in my next post. Then we can start getting into the good stuff.

* * *

Deep in the jungles of South America, even though it was well on towards the middle of the day not a single ray of sunlight reached the forest floor. Barely visible in the gloom, a small clearing with a tiny hut in it was the only sign of humanity. A tiny curl of black smoke snaking up from the chimney proved that someone had thought to light a fire. 

This was where Willow and Kennedy had come in the sudden diaspora that followed the sealing of Sunnydale's Hellmouth. There were several powerful families who had been more than happy to put Kennedy and Willow up for a few months, because in exchange they would get to be on the books for the boon that the favor purchased from the White Goddess.

Despite what Willow was, her current state meant she was utterly defenseless. She lay on the floor in the center of the hut. This room matched the exterior, with heavy furs that lined the walls and the floor doing as much to keep the hut cool in the day as they did to keep it warm at night. One step into the hallway revealed the true nature of the hut, as each room was as different from the next as a movie lot.

Kennedy was lying next to Willow with one arm scooped under her head. Kennedy's other hand was splayed to trace Willow's face with her index finger, gently caressing those perfect eyebrows before sliding down along her cheek. Her fingers followed Willow's lips so delicately until Kennedy finally leaned in for a kiss. She almost enjoyed the helplessness that Willow currently displayed, having had her way with her several times so far.

She flitted her tongue in to taste moisture, but Willow wasn't in there. The new Slayer didn't know exactly where Willow's mind was, other than she was on some other plane of existence. Kennedy liked to think that wherever Willow was she could feel the love and devotion being sent.

Willow's shock white hair spilled over Kennedy's arm, catching in the crook of her elbow. Kennedy idly stroked her fingers through it. The thin sheets that covered Willow's otherwise naked body did practically nothing to hide her suddenly heaving bosom.

Kennedy let out a small gasp as Willow's eyes popped open.

"Hi, you," Willow said with a lazy, crooked smile, after a moment to get her bearings.

"Hi," Kennedy said gently. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No," Willow said just as gently. "You couldn't have if you tried. Something happened." Willow sat up, holding her arm across her chest to keep the sheet in place. "Something bad. I had to come back so we can take care of it. You were like a lighthouse, and you made it so easy for me to find my way."

Kennedy was setting out clothes for Willow to wear. "I'll go draw you a bath," she said.

"Wait," Willow said. She stepped out of the bed to give Kennedy a hug.

After a brief kiss, Kennedy said, "I'll get that bath."

"We don't have time," Willow said.

"The world's not going to end in the next hour, is it?" Kennedy shot one of her quick smiles.

"I don't … think so," Willow said, honestly considering the likelihood.

"Good. Then come with me." Kennedy took her by the hand and together they went towards the bathroom. They had chosen to be the guests of a somewhat wealthy family of spiritualists, who more than material wealth had much stronger ties to ancient power than most. The palatial grounds housed rooms of various purpose, although the entire affair looked like a single hut from the outside.

Willow followed Kennedy, not the least bit concerned that she was naked, until they both stepped into the sumptuously appointed bathroom. An antique claw-foot sat in a nook perfect sized for it on the left side of the tent. An aged bronze tap was set in the cloth wall over its far side. Several cloth-draped steps, which could have been either wood or stone, led up to it.

There was a thin barrier separating the toilet from the rest of the room. Willow disappeared behind it for several minutes while Kennedy adjusted the water. A hand-sink sat on the opposite side from the tub and above it was a gigantic and majestic golden mirror that ran the entire length of the room. Kennedy stared into her own deep hazel eyes for a moment before she started stripping off her clothes.

Willow came back around the divider and the two of them squeezed into the tub. Their bodies slid together like wet snakes and for a while they just talked, nothing serious. The only major accomplishment of the first twenty minutes was that they washed each other's hair. After some playing, and some rubbing, and some cleaning, but long before Willow was ready, Kennedy started to climb out.

"Don't go," Willow said, giving Kennedy her very best sad puppy eyes.

"Don't do that to me," Kennedy said, taking Willow's hand. "Don't manipulate me or my emotions." She let their hands drop and started toweling herself off.

After drying off, Kennedy began to comb through her hair. She had been letting it grow out, and now it was well below her shoulders. Willow sat watching, resting her chin on her hand against the side of the tub.

"I wish my hair wasn't white," Willow said. "It makes me look like I'm a hundred years old."

"You look terrific," Kennedy said. "Some people spend hours, with their scalps burning and itching, to get that look."

"I've seen people go for yellow, but not this bone."

"Spike's hair was white," she said as she slipped her jeans on. "And I'll see you downstairs."

* * *

Gwen and Bethany had already done their introductions. Apparently helping damsels in distress was something Angel did quite frequently, and aside from a little bit of envy on both sides they were rather amicable. 

Gwen was still wearing her tattered leathers though Bethany had managed to find some dry clothes she'd left behind in her room. Although they were about the same size, Gwen stubbornly refused to wear any sundress.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Bethany said. "At least they're dry."

"And breezy," Gwen said. "I get wind in places I'd rather not."

"Speaking of wind," Bethany said, "How long do you think this storm is going to last?"

"I don't know," Gwen replied. "But to be honest, I'd rather wait and see if it clears up before we head out there again."

"We're going to need to eat soon," Bethany said. "We have to go somewhere."

"And what if Angel comes back while we're gone?" Gwen asked.

"We leave him a note?" Bethany asked, weakly.

"The reason my clothes look the way they do is because I got struck by lightning and it wouldn't stop." Gwen looked down at her leathers, which aside from some gaping holes in places, none critical, were holding together remarkably well.

"I'm not forcing you to come with me," Bethany said. "But we need to find a vending machine or a restaurant to get some food."

"There's nothing here?" Gwen asked.

"This place looks like it's been empty for months."

"Yeah, Angel's been working at Wolfram & Hart. But I thought he might have left somethi…"

Bethany cut her off. "He went to work for Wolfram & Hart?"

"Yeah, he's been there for a year or so."

"I hadn't heard," Bethany said, letting silence settle between them.

* * *

Dawn. Nothing mattered more to The Slayer right now. And this time it wasn't daylight that was on Buffy's mind, that wouldn't even help her in this situation. She had put it to the Immortal plainly, asking him where he stood. Of course, he's rotten to the core. 

Now Buffy stood in her underwear in the bedroom, trying to find something to wear to make good her escape. She wanted to go find her little sister, but at this point it might be just to choke her.

No matter how bluntly Buffy said it, nothing deterred the little bitch from "borrowing" her clothes, destroying them, and sneaking them back into the closet after she was done. Slaying was hard on her wardrobe, but even a decade of seasonal apocalypses hadn't done as much damage as a couple of years of this fictional teenager. It wasn't fair.

But the monk's had done their jobs well… maybe too well. The love that Buffy carried for her ward bordered on blindness, and this had been exploited to Buffy's end at least once. Though her friends had managed to bring her back (and Buffy had even managed to forgive them after a while) it was still a dangerous weakness to have.

And it wouldn't be long before some new threat to Dawn's well being emerged, especially with her on her own somewhere in California. Sure, Xander's heart was in the right place but he wasn't going to be much help if Dawn attracted the kind of attention she usually got. If Buffy was too late to save her it was probably because she couldn't find a top to wear.

She was so distracted she didn't even notice the Immortal's henchmen surrounding her until she caught a glimpse of one in the mirror.

"I don't suppose you guys would line up and take turns?" Buffy asked, laughing weakly and spinning around to face the group. The excitement crinkled her nipples, hardly visible through the padding of her sports bra. She balanced on the balls of her feet as she continued to turn in a loose circle and counted no less than nine of the things around her.

One of the things tried to speak with a croaking voice that didn't sound very cooperative. Buffy had to assume it was going to be a fight.

Stepping through the crowd, the Immortal held out his open palms. "It doesn't have to be this way, Buffy. I want Dawn back as much as you do."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Xander already told me how bad you wanted Dawn to stay. I'm not interested in your help."

"You don't understand," The Immortal said. "Dawn is coming back to my castle, one way or another. I'm not done with her yet." The Immortal took a few steps closer to Buffy. "Or you."

Buffy smashed him in the face with the heel of her hand. As he staggered back, she lifted her leg and snap kicked the pommel of her scythe, which was on her dresser. It flipped through the air into her hands and she lashed out, dropping two of the Immortal's demons with the first strike.

"Enough!" The Immortal bellowed. "I can't have you killing all of my henchmen."

"You act like you pay for health insurance or something," Buffy said, menacing anything that came too close to her.

"Angel's friends in Italy set up the benefits package for all my employees. I need Dawn's help with something, Buffy, that's all."

"Somehow I don't believe you," Buffy said. "Are you going to let me go get her or not?"

"Of course," The Immortal said, bowing aside with a smile. "Proceed with my blessing."

"Then get out." Buffy walked over to open the door, waiting for them to leave so she could finish finding her clothes.

* * *

By the time Willow joined her in the kitchen, Kennedy had a small feast prepared. There was a large mahogany table with a dozen seats around it, but only two place settings were prepared: one at the head of the table and one to the immediate right. At each were omelets, strips of bacon, slices of Canadian ham, pieces of smoked turkey, toast and muffins with real butter, a few boxes of cold cereal with an empty bowl, and several other dishes both sweet and fattening. 

"Did you cook this or cast it?" Willow asked, with some incredulity.

"It was actually pretty easy," Kennedy said.

"And it's been getting easier," Willow said, some concern in her voice. "How long did this take?"

"I started a few minutes after I got down here."

"Not bad," Willow said, sitting down. She gave the seat at the head of the table to Kennedy, a clear sign of who wore the pants in this relationship.

A pitcher of milk and another of orange juice sat between them, and glasses of water and ginger ale were nearby as well. After a few minutes had passed and they both had some food in them, they finally got around to talking about what had cut Willow's vacation so short.

"L.A.'s gone dark," Willow said without preamble.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kennedy asked.

"No communication, no light, no scrying." Willow took a sip from her milk. "Even regular folk can't see what's going on. The military satellites get blank photos, airplanes get lost in a layer of clouds that goes all the way to the ground."

"Ok. What do you think it really means?" Kennedy asked.

"There's only one way to be sure. But before we head in there ourselves, I think we should talk to Buffy and see if she's heard anything."

"Ok," Kennedy said. "When are we going?"

"Let's let the food settle a bit." Willow stood up and kissed Kennedy on the nose, their hair falling forward to hide both of their faces. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"I love you, too," Kennedy said, almost choking on the words.

* * *

TNIF Credit Union remained a bastion. The parapets that had looked so gothic architecturally now became real life battlements. Unscathed by the earthquakes and subsequent demons, its façade hadn't so much as cracked. Looking up into the windows, Spike could easily see things moving around in there, lots of things. 

"Well, Blue, you got a plan?" he asked.

"The doors are around to the right," she said.

Connor stood nearby, not quite ready to say anything, but interested in anything Illyria said.

"That's it?" Angel asked, moping nearby. "That's the plan?"

"You don't get to ask that question after last night," Spike said, poking Angel in the chest. "You're…"

"Spike." Angel glared down at the short little blonde. "Enough."

Spike turned back to Illyria, ignoring Angel's threatening stare. "That's it?" he repeated, looking into Illyria's strangely empty eyes.

"There are demons, traps, and spells in there. I could suggest that we come back with someone who could disarm them, or at least identify them." Illyria squinted into the night, her vision as perfect as any other aspect of her being, trying to make out any details of the figures in the windows.

"Yeah, but you killed our girl who used to do that," Spike said. "And then you watched someone else kill the guy who took over."

"Then the three of us must bear the damage, and the rest can come along behind."

"I can take some damage, too" Connor said, perking up. "I can even probably tell you where the traps are."

"The more I learn about you," Illyria said, "the less like your father you seem."

Angel switched his glare to her, but didn't say anything. They started moving, rounding the corner with Connor in the lead and the refugees in tow. Illyria ripped open the doors, the sound of chain links shredding echoed from the other side.

"We probably could have used those," Angel said.

Several demons came rushing out. Illyria sandwiched the first one between those doors, which she still held easily. Twisted and wrapped up like a corndog by the heavy metal doors, she tossed it over her shoulder and out of the fight.

From the lobby, the theme song to some cheesy eighties movie played over the sound system.

* * *

Giles had set up an office in one of the distant wings of the Immortal's compound, far away from the usual haunts of the many Slayers. It wasn't that he was avoiding them, just that he didn't want to be around them. This was much closer to the library, and although it was nothing compared to his personal collection, the books were certainly some of the finest in Europe. Not that Giles could use his personal collection as a fair comparison since it had been destroyed along with the rest of Sunnydale. 

There was a huge desk with a huge leather chair behind it, stuffed incongruously into a corner. Giles sat glaring across the desk, in front of it were two somewhat smaller (but still quite ample) chairs made of matching leather. Andrew fidgeted, quite uncomfortable, in one of these, trying to avoid Giles' eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" Andrew asked. "We're not going to kill anyone are we? Because I won't do that now."

"No one is killing anybody," Giles said, calmly. "What was lost in the explosion were a building and some resources. What we must replace are a building, and some materials."

"And some of your best Watchers," Andrew added.

"True," Giles said. "Some of them. But, then again, some of our greatest Watchers and all our other sleeper agents have been waiting for a day just such as this to come."

"Tell me what you want me to do," Andrew said. He wouldn't have had the courage to stand up to Giles in such a way even just a few short months ago. He'd changed as much as any of the Potentials.

"Isn't it obvious?" Giles cried, frustration on his wrinkled brow. "I want you to join me. Become a Watcher. Pick one of the Slayers and begin advanced training. We'll start bringing our people out of mothballs, we'll drain all our reserves, whatever it requires as long as we can get each one of these girls the guidance they require."

"I can have any one I want?" Andrew asked, incredulous.

"This isn't a sex toy, nor some kind of mail-order bride. This is serious business, Andrew. You must find one that you can tolerate. Maybe start with a small group and narrow it down as you go." Giles took off his glasses, cleaning them briefly. "No matter what, you'll be spending an awful lot of time with whomever you choose, and if you have personality clashes it's not going to be easy to be reassigned until after we bolster our ranks."

"I understand," Andrew said solemnly.

Outside the door to Giles' office, Willow and Kennedy stood dumbstruck. They both knew what the Council had been willing to do, time and time again, and the reasons why Wesley and Giles had both quit. Now it was coming back, like nothing ever happened?

* * *

With the screech of rubber meeting concrete, the airplane finally landed from Cincinnati. Dawn and Xander had made it. Now all that remained was a couple of hours heading up I-5 and their trip together would be over. Xander went to rent a car while Dawn picked up the luggage. They still weren't speaking. 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: This is my version of the post-Whedon Buffyverse. It is rated **Mature** for some dialogue, sexual themes (non-graphic), and violence. I assume you've seen or read all five seasons of Angel and all seven seasons of Buffy. I don't consider anything except aired episodes as canon.

My continued thanks to everyone who's put me on any sort of update list, and to the people who have posted reviews or sent a message.

By the way, I'm moving. So if I disappear for a while, expect me back in the first weeks of October.

* * *

Xander slammed the door to the tiny car, all he could afford. Dawn sat silently on the far side. They were quite a few miles into their trip; they'd just had to stop for gas. Xander had just about had it with Dawn's pouting. He knew that her bitch level was legendary, but this was just too much. 

"I don't see anyone else here for you," he said, slamming the car into first gear. Dawn coughed and choked like Xander had just popped _her _clutch.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

"A little respect," he said. "I've just traveled eighteen hours and several thousand miles to take you where you want to be. And you won't even talk to me."

"Why won't you stay with me?" Dawn asked. "I thought you said you were coming with me?"

"Spike's here," Xander said, taking the car back onto the freeway. "Angel's here. A bunch of good people are here already, Dawnie. They're gonna need me at the other Hellmouth."

"You're not going to stop until you get yourself killed," Dawn said. She idly picked at some loose vinyl near the window crank. "Is she worth it? Is Faith really worth it?"

"I'm not going there for Faith, I'm going for me." The tiny car sped along into the night, often getting lost in the darkness between streetlights.

"Why?" she asked. "What could possibly be worth risking your life again?"

"They need me."

"Not you," Dawn said. "You're super power would be getting your ass handed to you."

"No, it shouldn't," he said. "I saved the world once, you know. And you know that there're people who need anyone who is willing to help. To fight." He turned to her. "You could come with me."

"No I couldn't," she said. "I need help. I need Angel."

"What could Angel possibly do for you that I couldn't?"

"He helps the helpless. I'm pretty helpless, Xander. And you're too nice to tell me. Everyone is."

"No. You're one of the most resourceful young women I know."

"I'm not alive right now because I'm resourceful. I'm the Slayer's little sister. And that's all I'm ever gonna to be."

"Technically you're some sort of key." Xander said it softly, not intending to hurt her. But it didn't matter. Her face fell, she grew silent again. The miles ticked off as they sat together, each heading towards an unknown future.

"What did you mean by that?" Dawn finally asked.

"Nothing. Just because you were created like that doesn't mean you're any less real. I thought we went through all of this. Is this what you need Angel for? To tell you that you're actually better off because at least you _know _who or what made you."

"No, I need Angel for a lot more than that," Dawn said.

"I didn't even think you liked Angel," Xander said.

"That's exactly why I need him."

* * *

Gwen stood on the doorstep, not quite willing to go into the rain. "Why don't you look somewhere nearby, and I'll watch from here?" Gwen asked. 

"Where do you think I should look?" Bethany asked, a big, clean trash bag in her hands ready to ward off the rain. "I don't see any restaurants."

"Me either, but that might be a house there," she said, pointing.

"Ok. You could come with me though, I can throw you loose if you get stuck again."

"Look, I'm electric girl!" Gwen said, completely flustered. "I don't go well with water, ok?"

"Fine," Bethany said. "Fine. No reason to bite my head off."

"That's like the fifth time you've asked me to go with you. I'd love to be able to go outside, la la la, and prance in the frickin' rain."

"Ok," Bethany said quietly.

"Just go see if that's someone's house there, and if they have any food in it or not." Gwen pointed her arm towards the driveway down the street. "If there's someone in there already, you scream and run and I'll come over and we'll see what happens then."

"Ok, jeez." Bethany held up the trash bag and started splashing out across the street. She'd found new shoes, and a pair of zip-lock bags were keeping them dry. Gwen stood under the porch, listening long after she'd lost sight of her new friend.

Bethany unlatched the driveway's gate from the inside. She walked up the grossly overgrown walkway, carefully stepping on each stone plate rather than the muddy, weedy spaces in between. For such a nice looking neighborhood, Bethany was rather surprised.

There weren't any lights on, or any noises coming from inside. So she figured it was safe enough to enter, and started working on the locks with her mind. It didn't take long to get everything open, and long before Gwen would have suspected Bethany was inside and looking around.

The lights worked so she followed her way through the house to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator door and loaded a bunch of perishables into a backpack she'd found in the hallway. Without looking around or waiting around for anything else, she beat feet back outside and towards the hotel.

She heard a screeching coming from the skies above and behind her as she ran back across the street, but she'd seen one too many horror movies to stop and look. She spun Gwen around and carried her inside with her as the canopy above the porch was ripped away. They put their backs against the wall and listened to the mighty beast roar it's frustration.

"What the fuck was that?" Bethany gasped.

"I have no idea, I didn't even see what you're talking about," Gwen said, terror obvious on her face. Little crackles of energy branched off her fingers and into the wall to the power cables that ran throughout the house. The lights were flickering and the walls behind them were shaking, but that part was more from Bethany's fear than the dragon's assault. In fact, before it even seemed to begin, there was nothing but silence around them.

"Oh my god," Gwen said.

"We've got to get out of here," Bethany said.

"Why? You know I can't go out there."

"If it's not trying to eat us, that must mean it's not _for _eating people."

"What's it _for_ then?" Gwen asked, using Bethany's emphasis.

"Finding people."

* * *

Spike bashed something's head off the railing beside him. They were deep in the thick of it, wading up a stairwell together. Angel and Connor had drifted back to be a rear guard, and Spike and Illyria had remained up front to lead the way. 

Connor had protested for a while, but finally gave in. There were bigger things than egos and pretty girls at stake here. Spike wondered how those two were doing back there but had no time to focus on them at the moment. Illyria's foot came swinging around over his head, as her fight spread into his.

"Come on," Spike said, ducking. "Get your own."

"This entire building is mine," Illyria said. "In fact," she smiled at Spike before turning to face the advancing horde.

Illyria's voice boomed impossibly loud. "Any being that wishes to leave now may do so, freely, with neither penalty nor offense so long as this building is MINE now!" She splattered the head of the nearest thing to her, and pointed back to the trail of devastation behind her. "I can do this one at a time, or all at once. You can't defeat me, but you don't have to face me. Know that I am Illyria, god-king of this place!"

"Bloody hell," Spike said, covered in greenish blood. "What'd you have to go and do that for?"

"Silence, half-breed," Illyria said, without turning or even flinching. "Your betters are speaking."

After a few minutes of quiet stewing Spike saw Angel push his way through the closest refugees. Sin Jinn was beside him.

"Everyone's leaving," Angel said. "Connor's back there checking things out, but it looks like they are just pouring out the other doors."

As he spoke, a demon was visible falling past the window behind them, the ones in the stairwell above finding the most expedient route around Illyria. Her laughter began to fill the hallway.

"Now to Vahla Ha'nesh," she said. "This way."

She wasted no time, and each enemy along the way was given a moment to consider before she attacked. The only one that tried to ambush the refugees from behind was now being dragged along as grim warning to anyone else with the same idea.

They all gathered in the lobby that now held the portal to Illyria's realm. No dust covered the surfaces, though it was probably more from constant use than fastidious cleaning. The demons that lived here were working hard to make a new life for themselves. It was almost a tragedy that they were being expelled, but it was Darwinism at work now. Survival of the strongest.

"I want to thank you for bringing us here," Sin Jinn said. "But I also want you to know that we plan to be active in our own defense. Patrols, traps, security footage if this building still has power. There are many things which we wish to do."

"And I wish you to do these things," Illyria said. "But I can not hold the portal open indefinitely. I should be able to open it twice a day, every twelve hours."

"That's not enough, what if something happens, if there's an emergency inside?"

"What happens if there's an emergency out here?" Illyria responded. "But there is a chime, inside, which they can ring if the need is truly dire. I shall rip apart the first person who does so inappropriately, however."

"Fair enough," Sin Jinn said. He turned to his people and began to issue orders. The weapons were gathered, and the true civilians, the mothers and the old, the weak and the dire, were all collected in the center of the room.

"These are the ones going inside," Sin Jinn said. "Thirty seven of them."

"And how many shall remain outside?"

"Eleven, myself included."

"Very well," Illyria said and waved her hand.

The air in front of her began to shimmer, and the portal opened fully. She stepped through to show the way but kept it open behind her. As the refugees stepped in, they couldn't withhold their gasps. Such a strange looking place, dead, desolate. It hardly seemed like salvation, but what other option did they have? No other supernatural beings seemed willing to offer sanctuary.

The soldiers remaining outside split up into smaller groups to better handle their specific tasks. Some of them set about restoring booby traps, either brought along or salvaged from the previous inhabitants. Others went to find the security room and see what bounty it offered.

Sin Jinn remained in the lobby with Angel and Spike, but Illyria and Connor had both disappeared.

"When will your people be ready?" Angel asked.

"By midnight," Sin Jinn said.

"Where is everyone?" Spike asked. He looked around, but only two other Gunn-men were working nearby.

"We've got it under control," Sin Jinn replied.

* * *

The battered little car pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. The wipers futilely tried to clear away the rain which had grown steadily worse all along the drive up the coast. The headlights peered out into the downpour, not really able to do much besides give away their position. 

"Here we are," Xander said, pressing the clutch and putting on the parking brake.

"It doesn't look like anyone's here," Dawn said.

"There are lights on. And the law firm was in ruins." Xander looked out the window. "You got any better ideas?"

Dawn opened the door and then opened her umbrella before stepping out. She'd found it at one of the gas stations they'd stopped at, and it had tiny kittens on a pink background. Xander had the same one and stepped around from the other side to stand next to her on the sidewalk.

"Who's there?" Bethany called from a second floor window.

"We're looking for Angel," Xander called back.

* * *

Bethany sat in Cordelia's old chair. Gwen was on Wesley's old desk. Xander stood leaning on the far side of the counter. Dawn sat on the round chair, as far away from the group as she could get while still seeming a part of it. Their body language was all carefully neutral, except for Gwen who seemed perfectly at ease, sitting cross-legged upon the wooden surface she occupied, with her hands folded in her lap. 

The layer of dust covering everything seemed almost holy, the untouched remains of _Angel Investigations_ and its myriad people and cases. The place had a distinctive smell as well which wasn't quite repugnant to the nose, but was certainly unique.

"I won't go out there," Gwen said. "Not until the rain stops."

"But we can't stay here," Xander said.

"Why not?" Bethany asked, playing devil's advocate to hear Xander's opinion. "There's food nearby, this place is pretty good to hole up in."

"But didn't you say you were found out?" Dawn asked, not quite speaking up but still quite easily heard.

Xander spun around to look between everyone, like a twisting tennis match. "You mean the dragon? You think that was real?"

"If it wasn't real, what was it?" Gwen demanded.

"Maybe 'Carrie' here made it out of trash? You said she was shaking the walls…"

"It doesn't matter," Bethany interjected. "If we stay here, they'll be back."

"But we don't know where to go," Gwen added. "Unless Angel comes back…"

"Maybe I can help," a voice called across the lobby. Xander spun around just as Connor stepped into the light. It seemed like he actually traveled from one shadow to another but it was just careful showmanship. As the closest thing to a male Slayer on the planet, taken and raised on a demon world, it was hard to say what Connor could really do, other than that Buffy could beat him after what Willow did. After the Slayer line was broken.

"Who are you?" Gwen asked. Her hair almost began to stand on end, but it was tied back in a tight ponytail.

"I'm Angel's son." Connor said. He hated saying it but it was the easiest way he could identify himself.

Dawn looked him up and down before saying, "I think I remember you."

"That's strange," Connor said. "But the spell is wearing off so maybe it's getting easier."

"The last time I saw you, you were a baby," Gwen said.

"Oh baby," Bethany said, a sultry ice in her tone.

Connor raised his eyebrow but didn't say anything.

* * *

"What exactly are you planning?" Willow asked, stepping into Giles' office. 

"Ah, Willow. You're back. I assume you already know what I'm talking about." Giles waved towards the open chair, wide enough for both her and Kennedy's slender hips.

"You're bringing back the Watchers," Willow said, definitely not a question.

"I assume you're drawing power to your side, resurrecting the ghosts of the White Witches." Giles stared at Willow, this otherwise pleasant conversation suddenly turning into some kind of showdown.

Willow refused to flinch. "I'm going to Cleveland."

This was clearly not what Giles had been expecting. "Cle… Cleveland?"

"We have to stop in L.A. first," Kennedy added, almost as an afterthought.

"Dawn just left for Angel's care. Xander accompanied her."

Andrew had sat silent this whole time, but now he suddenly sat forward. "And Buffy and the Immortal had it out."

"Where is she now?"

"Gone. She went after Dawn," Andrew said. He leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingers, drumming two of them together.

"Oh knock it off," Giles snapped, before turning back to the powerful lesbians. "I assume you understand your place in all of this?"

"Yeah. You're bringing back the evil empire and it's my job to be a pain in your ass about it." Willow said this with a smile, but they all could tell it wasn't a joke.

* * *

Connor led the four of them back towards the new hideout. It was awfully cramped, but Connor didn't complain from the back seat, with Bethany on one side and the barely dressed Gwen on the other. Dawn sat comfortably up front, although she was a little cramped because of her chair being slid so far forward. 

"Ok, let's go," Connor said.

Xander stalled it trying to get started, but finally headed out. "This wet is a pain in the ass," he said.

There were times when they had to drive on the wrong side of the street, or back up and make detours, because of debris or overturned cars that were on the way. Several times Connor thought it would be faster to just walk. But Gwen was adamant that she not be exposed for too long, protected (such as it was) by the insulation of four rubber tires.

"What are you doing here?" Connor asked, looking between everyone.

"We're all … pretty much … looking for Angel," Xander said. Bethany and Gwen nodded, but Dawn didn't bother.

Bethany kind of snuggled in against Connor's shoulder, her thigh riding his hip gently, bouncing with every pothole. He was afraid that Gwen, on his other side, would surely notice his growing reaction.

* * *

"Connor's bringing people in," Sin Jinn said, standing between Angel and Spike. 

"How many?" Angel asked.

"Four of them. Apparently civilians he found outside. He's downstairs now."

"Bring them up here," Spike said.

Sin Jinn called something over the walkie-talkie and Gwen, Bethany, Dawn, and Xander were led into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Spike asked, looking at Dawn. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"I'd rather talk to Angel about it," Dawn said. "Alone."

"Well this really isn't the time, can it wait Dawn?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, it's not really a rush thing if you don't mind me sticking around for a while."

"Not at all," Angel said.

"You can stay inside the portal," Spike said. "Illyria should be here to change the guard soon."

"We need somewhere to shack up, too," Gwen said, stepping forward to present herself.

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Bethany, how have you been?"

"I was doing great until yesterday," Bethany said. "Then everything went dark."

Illyria came into the room, stopping dead in her tracks to stare at Dawn. Everyone kind of milled about uncomfortably as the minutes dragged on. Illyria cocked her head to one side.

"What are you?" she asked.

Dawn swallowed before answering, "What do you mean?"

"I mean you are…" Illyria paused, crinkling her brow. She charged forward and grabbed Dawn by the wrist.

"Hey, let go of me," Dawn yelled.

Angel tried to grab Illyria, but she tossed him away with a judo-like throw. Spike, determined not to fail this time, swung without hesitating. Illyria made a left turn and took a step into nothingness. Dawn was completely helpless against that vice-like grip and she had no choice but to follow along. Spike's fist passed through empty air.

Sin Jinn didn't seem to have noticed, for he came walking over. "Why didn't she open the way to Vahla Ha'nesh?" he asked.

"No!" Spike fell to his knees, screaming. Angel started to get up behind him.

"What the hell just happened?" Angel asked. "Where'd she go?"

"Hi, everybody," Willow said, Kennedy standing beside her. "Sorry for just popping in like this, but it was easier to just come to a person than trying to look all over the city for you…" Her light, sweet voice trailed off. "What just happened?" she asked.


End file.
